Misty Falls

by Joss Stirling

  He looked up from his screen. ‘What’s not fair?’

  ‘You good-looking people. You don’t realize what it is like to be the rest of us.’

  He opened his mouth, then paused, trying to sense if my gift was under wraps or roaming free.

  ‘It’s OK. You can lie if you want. It’s in here.’ I tapped my head.

  ‘I wasn’t going to lie exactly.’

  ‘But … ?’

  ‘I was going to say that I didn’t notice, but I do. And it’s stupid.’ A little huff fluttered his golden-brown fringe. ‘I don’t see myself like that. It’s what’s inside that counts.’

  ‘Yeah, but us moths are attracted to flame and you and your brothers are like candles.’

  He grinned. ‘Was that an example of your inability to lie?’

  ‘I suppose, yes. I’m blunter than most people as I can’t be any other way. I tell it how it is.’

  ‘Then let me say that no one in your family is exactly homely.’

  ‘Homely? Is that like American for butt ugly?’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘A better translation would be plain. Crystal is stunning.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Diamond is beautiful.’ Diamond, the next sister up in age from Crystal, had married the oldest Benedict brother, Trace. She was the epitome of elegance, sleek and coordinated.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And you are very cute too.’ He winked.

  I checked my lie detector but nothing he said had set my teeth on edge, the usual sign of a fib. Uriel thought I was cute? Aw! I honestly believed myself to be a bit of a mess in the looks department. I had inherited the same wildly frizzy hair as Crystal but several shades paler. Without my hair lotion I would be wandering round Cape Town looking like an alpaca in need of a shearing. I had pale skin and freckles, weird long blonde eyelashes and eyes that had settled on an unremarkable grey. I should not press him for any more compliments as he would have reached the end of the road of his honest opinions.

  ‘So what are you working on?’ I asked in a none-too-subtle change of subject.

  Brought back to his task, his smile dimmed. ‘Please don’t read the screen.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He could tell from my tone that I was feeling shut out. ‘It’s nothing to do with the trip and it’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s more that I can’t.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  He sighed. ‘You know I work in forensics?’

  ‘Yes, Crystal mentioned it. You’re doing post-doctoral studies, she said.’

  ‘I undertake investigations for the American authorities into crimes that seem to have some link to the savant community. Victor brings me in when he needs me.’

  Victor, Uriel’s younger brother, worked for the FBI.

  ‘Oh, I see. So it’s like a state secret or something?’

  ‘More like it’s too grim for you to see. Post-mortems aren’t exactly vacation reading.’ He closed down that document and called up a map. There were red dots scattered over the globe, clustered in North America, Australia, New Zealand, and several countries in Europe. ‘I can tell you, though, that I’m looking into some connected deaths.’ He angled the screen for me to see. ‘Twelve we know of so far—a serial killer who preys on the savant community. We’re searching for a way to stop there being another victim. My job is to tug the thread loose that will trap our murderer.’ He rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I’m a little obsessed with it—haven’t been able to put it aside since the first murder last year.’

  My truth power was perhaps encouraging him to confess more than he normally would, or maybe he just needed to offload, but it gave me an insight into what the last few months had been like for him.

  ‘Twelve—that’s terrible!’ I suddenly wished I wasn’t so far from the ones I loved. I’d have to text them on arrival to take special care.

  Uriel’s expression was really grim. ‘Each one an unspeakable loss for the family involved. I can’t bear the idea that there will be more.’

  ‘And that’s what’s kept you from flying off to South Africa?’

  He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Yeah. I wanted to solve the case so it didn’t tarnish this moment. Victor finally told me it was time to take a break. He thinks I’ll see things more clearly once I get the soulfinder business over with.’

  I lifted an eyebrow. ‘Business?’

  He shook his head at his own clumsy phrasing. ‘I hope not. Pleasure: I hope it is going to be a hundred per cent pleasure.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there to help.’ I crossed my fingers that he hadn’t heard too much about my Misty moments or he’d be even more worried.

  He snapped his computer screen closed. ‘Thank you. Now, you’ve reminded me that this isn’t supposed to be work. I should arrive with something other than murder on my brain, agreed?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Game of cards?’ He pulled a pack out of his pocket. ‘What do you want to play?’

  ‘Go Fish?’

  His smile was wry. ‘How appropriate.’

  My Auntie Opal was waiting in arrivals with my three cousins, Willow, Hazel and the toddler, Brand. Willow and Hazel had crayoned a banner for us, an amazing drawing of a lion roaring a welcome. Both had inherited a savant gift for capturing images in all sorts of forms—for Willow it was drawing, for Hazel sculpture in any material—paper, clay, cardboard, wood. What they saw they could reproduce with amazing accuracy and artistic flair. I doubt anyone on the concourse suspected that the excitable five-and seven-year-olds were responsible for making the banner unaided. I had last seen them at Diamond and Trace’s wedding in Venice in December where they had run wild with my younger sisters, Gale, Peace, and Felicity only pausing to pretend to be angelic bridesmaids for an hour. Not that anyone in the family was fooled.

  ‘Misty! Misty!’ shouted Willow as if I couldn’t see the party waiting for us.

  I waved, only to be taken aback by a lion’s roar that came, no, surely not, from Brand? The huge noise from a tiny boy caught many by surprise. I saw the hordes of taxi drivers looking nervously around in case a wild creature was prowling the concourse. My aunt went into a flurry of distraction activity and handed Brand a drink to prevent a repeat.

  ‘Sorry about that. His gift has begun to show,’ she said as she kissed me and then hugged Uriel.

  ‘What kind of gift is that?’ I asked, eyeing with suspicion the squirming bundle of black-haired toddler. ‘Does he turn into a lion or something?’

  ‘Not as bad as that.’ Opal started with the pushchair for the car park, expecting us all to follow. She always acted like mother duck, no matter the age of her ducklings. ‘He’s a natural mimic. It might even be a gift for animal languages, we’re not quite sure.’

  I sensed there was more to tell. ‘But?’

  ‘He seems to have long conversations with our dog.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘In fact, I’m not sure if Brand doesn’t think he is a puppy, as he likes playing fetch for hours.’

  ‘It’s nice that he likes playing with the dog,’ said Uriel kindly, catching the bottle the little boy had dropped as he bobbed up and down in his seat.

  ‘No, I meant Brand likes us to throw him a stick; the dog doesn’t get a look in. And he gnaws things, trouser legs mostly.’

  I laughed as Willow and Hazel giggled. Uriel handed him back his bottle and Brand gave a bright yip, which suggested he was following more of the conversation than a two-year-old could usually be expected to understand. He promptly dropped his drink again.

  Uriel snatched it up before it hit the tarmac. ‘I think I’m being taken for a ride. He’s playing bottle-fetch.’

  ‘Welcome to my family,’ I said to Uriel. ‘We are all certifiable.’

  He offered his hands to the girls to hold for crossing the road. ‘Makes me feel right at home.’

  After a shower and time to unpack, we convened in the kitchen for our council of war. My family home back in the UK was in a leafy suburb of
London; Opal’s house was in a similar area in Cape Town: the Zwaanswyck district, an affluent neighbourhood with fabulous houses and gardens, south of the centre. Cape Town has one of the world’s best climates so everything looked fresh and green, except for the rocky flanks of Table Mountain that dominated the skyline. A cloud-cloth covered the top, formed as the moist sea air bumped into Africa. Her husband and soulfinder, Milo Carr, worked as a dental surgeon; Opal was a lawyer but was taking a career break to be with the children. Their house was a lovely place to spend a holiday: a long low building with sprawling lawns and a circular pool, though during the cooler and wetter winter days, only the hardiest swimmer would take a dip. That would be me. Coming from England, I was going to take advantage of the slightest glimpse of sunshine and had laid out my bikini in case it warmed up later.

  But first things first: Uriel’s big moment.

  Opal put coffee cups on the kitchen table in front of us and then carried over a plate of homemade biscuits. Through the picture window behind her I could see the girls playing on the swing hanging from the silver oak at the far end of the lawn; Brand was sitting in a playpen having an earnest conversation with Nutty, the family’s chocolate Labrador. The girls’ pictures and models decorated every spare inch of the kitchen cabinets: a random collection of unicorns, family faces, butterflies, and safari animals. Pot plants exploded in happy blossom on every spare ledge and windowsill. I thought the whole place had a friendly messiness to it, which had to be Milo’s relaxing effect on my aunt as she was famous among her brothers and sisters for being a neat freak, a good practical example of soulfinders balancing out each other’s gifts.

  I picked up a biscuit and took a bite. ‘Hmm-hmm—chocolate chip! You made these?’

  Opal finally took a seat, hauling a large file with her, which wafted the crumbs as she dropped it down in front of Uriel. The surface of his coffee ringed from the centre out in the shockwave. ‘Hardly, Misty. I don’t have time to cook. I’ve been too busy with this. Willow made the cookies with her dad last night.’

  ‘Compliments to the chefs,’ said Uriel. He tapped the file. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘My research.’ Opal took a sip of coffee. ‘On your potential soulfinder—I’ve trawled through those with the right age who fitted Crystal’s hints. They’re only the ones known to the Savant Net but I had to start somewhere. To save you time, I’ve narrowed it down to one front-runner.’ She frowned slightly, reviewing her material. ‘Of course, we can’t rule out that there is another candidate out there who doesn’t know about us.’

  ‘You are very thorough.’

  ‘Legal training.’ Opal shrugged as if that explained it. She also had a savant gift for restoration, returning things to their original condition, which went well with her compulsion to see to the detail. She would have been knockout as a picture restorer but had surprised the family by choosing law. She explained that she preferred restoring justice to lives than flecks of paint on old masters. ‘My favourite is the one at the top; there isn’t really anyone else in her league of suitability. You’ll see I’ve gathered a lot of information on her, educational background and professional qualifications. She works at the Groote Schuur Hospital in the paediatric department. I got to know her a little when she treated Brand for a bad chest infection.’

  Normally so controlled, Uriel’s hand was shaking very slightly as he opened the file to the first photo. ‘Francie Coetzee.’ He studied the picture, his finger tracing the edge, then put it down, expression puzzled. ‘Strange, I was expecting something, I don’t know, more when I saw her.’

  Opal gave him an understanding smile. ‘It isn’t always a bolt of lightning, Uriel. Milo and I weren’t sure until we connected telepathically.’

  ‘And then?’ I asked, curious to hear this part of the story.

  She grinned. ‘Zap!’ We laughed as she blushed.

  ‘Well done, Uncle Milo!’

  ‘Yes, well.’ Opal cleared her throat, too late to hide her embarrassment at letting that out. ‘I’ve asked Francie if I can meet up at the hospital café after her shift. I mentioned I was bringing savant guests who were visiting Cape Town for the first time.’

  ‘What’s she expecting from us?’ Uriel asked.

  ‘I said that Milo and I were very boring hosts with the kids limiting our partying and wondered if she could introduce you to some younger locals. She’s got a group together for tomorrow night. Is that soon enough for you?’

  He swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  Opal patted his hand. ‘Look through the file. She’s a lovely girl, brilliant at her job.’

  Uriel nodded, but I could tell he was disappointed. It was probably just jet lag so I told him so.

  ‘You’re right. I should sleep on it.’ He picked up the file. ‘Is it OK if I take this back to my room?’

  ‘Absolutely. I’ll let you know when it’s time for lunch.’ Opal whisked some crumbs into her palm in a nervous tidying gesture.

  We waited for him to leave the room before letting our eyes meet.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Opal. ‘Do you think I should phone Crystal?’

  ‘Let’s not panic, auntie. It’s just the first candidate.’

  ‘I think I convinced myself I’d done a good job finding the right woman but now I’m not sure.’

  Brand started whimpering because Nutty had left him to join the girls. Opal used her telekinetic powers to make his teddy bear do a jig in front of him. He switched to a throaty chuckle.

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ I said. ‘So sweet. He is going to have all the little girls in kindergarten after him.’

  ‘That’s savant boys for you. Heartbreakers, all of them. I just hope Francie is tough enough to take it tomorrow. She must have suspected I was up to something.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Her gift is to read minds. That’s why she’s so good at what she does: she can pick out the thoughts of even the most confused little person who doesn’t understand what’s making them feel bad. I’m afraid she’ll be expecting something momentous to happen.’

  I felt a moment of déjà vu. Hadn’t I had a similar conversation with Crystal? The women in my family all seemed to feel they were responsible for everything. ‘It’s not your fault, auntie. You’ve done your best. Anyway, I’ll be there to help you both find out the truth.’

  Uriel pulled out all the stops for his first encounter with his potential match; he emerged from his bedroom shaved, groomed and dressed in a carefully picked green T-shirt with a tree on the front and faded jeans that showcased his yummy golden skin and cyclist’s lean fitness. I emerged from my room looking like I’d had a close encounter with a hedge trimmer. I’d made the mistake of washing my hair before going to bed, forgetting that my curl-taming lotion was back in a Heathrow bin.

  I held up my hand as Uriel and Opal caught a glimpse of me. ‘Don’t. I know.’

  Hazel cartwheeled into the kitchen. ‘Hey, Misty, what’s happened to your hair? You look funny.’

  Just then I felt a hot resentment of Hazel’s neat black plaits. Opal had escaped the plague of the frizzy hair that had been inherited by some members of our family and so her children were free of the jinx.

  ‘I do not look funny, Hazel. I’m just channelling my inner alpaca.’

  Brand made a sound like a high-pitched donkey bray.

  ‘What was that?’ I asked.

  ‘I think he’s imitating the alpaca alarm call,’ said Uriel, bending down by the little guy. ‘That’s so cool. Where did you learn that?’

  Brand howled like a wolf.

  ‘Discovery Channel,’ said Opal. ‘He gets Nutty to fetch him the remote when my back’s turned. He loves nature programmes. And you wonder why I’ve not yet gone back to work? Think what he would do at nursery.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘Milo, we’re leaving!’

  Uncle Milo came in from the garden, Willow riding piggyback. A short, rounded man with a high forehead, Opal’s soulfinder was built for comfort rather than speed. He had a gift
for making things grow and bloom so was usually very restful to be around. But not today. Instead of calming with wise words, he looked anxious. ‘I hope it goes well, Uriel. We’ll be rooting for you.’ He reached out and shook hands with his American guest. Here was another one treating it like a major battle.

  ‘OK, guys, let’s go then.’ I headed for the door before Uriel got too spooked.

  Mercifully, the drive to the hospital did not take long. Opal swung into a bay in the visitors’ car park and we got out onto the damp tarmac. The evening was turning sunny after the earlier rain showers; long shadows stretched out before us so we looked like an alien landing party. Nudging Uriel, I put my fingers by my ears and waggled to make antennae, hoping to make him laugh.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Opal asked, locking the car with a click of the key fob.

  Normal people would make up a lie at this point, something about massaging their temples, but I can’t. ‘Making a Martian?’ It came out with a question mark as I realized how stupid it sounded.

  ‘If you can’t take this seriously, Misty, perhaps you’d better stay in the car.’ Her tone was more irritated than justified by my goofing around; nerves were getting to her too.

  Uriel smiled at me. ‘She’s fine, Opal. She’s making me relax. I feel a little fish-out-of-water. You know, Misty, you remind me of Xav—in a good way.’ He slung an arm around my shoulders and we walked together to meet his destiny. ‘He’s our family clown.’

  We sat with our drinks around a mosaic-patterned table near the door to the café. Coffee beans fought with the antiseptic smell of the hospital foyer—caffeine just winning. I stirred my raspberry frappuccino, enjoying the marbling effect through the clear glass. Opal kept checking her watch every minute.

  ‘She’s late.’

  ‘I imagine that she can’t just down tools at the end of her shift doing what she does,’ Uriel said quietly. His leg under the table was jigging nervously. I had to do something to make him relax or this would be one awkward first-day-of-the-rest-of-their-lives.